


One-Two Finish

by carmenere



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ADHD, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Swimming, Doping policy concerns, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 23:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenere/pseuds/carmenere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beacon Hills swim star, Stiles Stilinski, is desperate to A) make it to the national team, B) CIF finals, and C) finally kick Derek Hale's ass in all their backstroke events. But having your archnemesis on the same club team, Beacon Valley Swim Club, makes hating him a little bit more complicated. It's a long season, though, and Stiles isn't sure if he'll be able to do it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One-Two Finish

“Scott,” Stiles said over the din in the tile showers, “today might not be the best day to have a trial at BVSC. Finstock fucked us over with all the sprinting and relays.” He slipped off his speedo and turned into the spray, letting the hot water envelop his body.

 

Everybody on varsity swim team wanted to train with Beacon Valley Swim Club and Scott was no exception. Being the only elite, Olympic-track swim club tended to have that effect on people. And now that BVSC had started offering scholarships? Well, it was only natural that Scott had gotten really excited. Thank you recent retired Olympians for endowing the club.

“I’m still going to go. The coaches said I can have a week of practice with you guys before they make their decision.” Scott stepped out from under the spray as Greenberg walked in from the extra butterfly set Finstock had made him do. “Greenberg, this one’s free. I’m heading out.”

The BVSC swimmers on the high school team changed into their tracksuits and headed towards Stiles’s car. It was his turn to drive everyone to the swim center the next town over in Beacon Valley.

Jackson, Danny, Isaac, and Scott piled their extra swim equipment into Stiles’s trunk. “That’s the last of it, right?” Stiles asked, and the others nodded as the all piled into the Jeep.

They’d gotten the carpooling schedule down to an art after everyone, except for Scott, initially joined the club team the past summer. “Jackson it’s your turn to quiz everyone on Yukimura’s history class,” Danny reminded them, “we have a test on Friday.”

“Don’t we have a meet that day?” Stiles asked as he pulled out of the student parking lot and drove toward the freeway. “Against Beacon Valley, remember?”

“Leave it to Stiles to remember the days we swim against Derek,” Danny teased.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s because I’m totally in love with him, right? But anyway, test and meet on Friday?”

They would have to take the exam Thursday after school or Friday morning, Stiles knew, but it was still really annoying when exams and meets overlapped. Teachers just didn’t give a shit anymore about athletes… especially non-football athletes, but whatever. At least Finstock would give them Thursday rest, thank the lord for tapering.

They spent the 40 minute drive explaining important historical concepts to each other, mainly to Scott since he was struggling the most in school. Stiles had no idea how he was going to handle being on a club team AND their high school varsity team. In the very, very, very back of his mind, he hoped Scott wouldn’t make it.

The guys got to BV Swim Center twenty minutes early and took the opportunity to scribble the answers they’d talked about in the car onto their class worksheets. Just as Stiles was finishing his sentence on the short-term repercussions of the Hiroshima bombing, he felt Scott nudge his arm.

Scott jerked his head to the side, “Look who it is.”

Derek had arrived in his team tracksuit, backpack and equipment in tow. He nodded at the guys and set his stuff down on the bleachers a few feet away. Stiles couldn’t help but stare as Derek peeled off the jacket and pants and began to stretch.  His reverie was interrupted as the rest of their team walked in and got ready to train.

The coach had them all begin by explaining the sets they’d done at their high school varsity practices to determine the best way to split them up for their specialty training.

“We’ve got the whole pool today, so we’ll work on individual events. Scott, you said you’re a distance swimmer?” Scott nodded and Coach Winnie Faber continued, “Great so you’ll be working with Isaac, Ben, Alex, and Jose.” Everyone gave a little wave to Scott, excited to have a new distance swimmer because everyone usually hated swimming anything more than a 100.

“Derek and Stiles, you’re the only backstrokers until we can get some fresh blood, so it’ll be just the two of you in lane 2.” Stiles glanced at Derek wearing his typical scowl, unable to tell whether the guy was always this unhappy or if Stiles just brought out the worst in him.

Danny poked Stiles and whispered, “Your dream practice, isn’t it?” Stiles was decidedly silent on the issue.

Coach Faber continued putting everyone into their lanes and then took a look at the pool. It was an Olympic-sized pool and the lanes had been designated that way from whichever group had practice before them. “Dammit. Guys, we have to switch the lanes from long course to short course. That’ll be your warm up.” She nodded, signaling to get started on the switch.

Finally, after 20 minutes fixing the lanes, Stiles finally got into lane 2 with Derek. “Ready for this season?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Are you?” Derek retorted, raising an eyebrow.

“So ready. Ready to take that podium away from you, that is,” he grinned.

Derek didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and waited for Faber’s backstroke set.

She came up to them with the initial set on a piece of printer paper. “So I have a surprise for you guys. You thought you were just working on backstroke today, but you’re going to do a bit of fly as well. There’s four rounds of this. 100 drill: 50 three stroke fly, 50 backstroke drill any one you like, and it’s on the 1:20. Follow that with 100 backstroke swim also on the 1:20. Then do a 25 fly on the minute and a 50 freestyle on the minute, so it’s nice and easy.”

“You want me to do fly and call it nice and easy,” Stiles said incredulously. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Just do it, Stiles, it’s to get your shoulders warmed up for sprints. Set’s there on the paper if you forget, I’ll be back to give you your main set when you’re done.”

Thank goodness Faber didn’t really give them too much rest. Stiles hadn’t been able to hold a conversation with Derek outside of the pool, which made all of the time they’d spent training together sort of awkward. And now they were the only two in the lane? Nope, not a good time.

Derek and Stiles completed the set in relative silence, and after they finished the next set—a whole lot of backstroke, thank goodness—Coach Faber made them go get their hip belts. Stiles groaned, but pushed himself up and out of the pool after Derek.

“This is maybe my least favorite part,” Stiles grumbled as he hooked the Velcro loop to his lane’s diving block.

“Your complaining is maybe my least favorite part,” Derek replied, rolling his eyes.

“At least I react, Hale. You’re a robot. Seriously, does _anything_ faze you?” Stiles buckled the belt just above his hips and tugged on the rubber bungee cord.

Coach Faber came back and tossed Derek one of her waterproof stopwatches. “Okay, guys. You’re going to work on your kicking for two minutes each. Then switch. ”

Just as she was turning to walk away, Stiles called out to her, “Wait! Flutter kick or dolphin?”

“Dolphin—on your back, of course.”

She went to give the other lanes instructions, leaving Derek and Stiles to begin their training. “This isn’t even how you’re supposed to use them,” Stiles grumbled to Derek.

“Whatever,” Derek replied, “Ready?” Stiles planted his feet, grabbed onto the starting bar attached to the lane’s diving block, and nodded. “Okay, go,” Derek said as he started the stopwatch.

Stiles launched backwards, making sure to use his best form for this backstroke start. Being so close to Derek, this open to scrutiny, made him feel unnecessarily competitive.

When Stiles came up to breathe, still kicking against the pull of the resistance cord, he heard Derek yelling his special brand of encouragement. “Come on, Stiles. That’s pathetic. You want me to taste your wake this season, right? How do you expect to do that with such a weak kick? This cord is owning you right now.” Derek swam past his head and fixed Stiles’s streamlined arms. He lurked just past Stiles’s fingertips.

“Fuck you, I hate you,” Stiles repeated over and over between breaths and trying not to get water up his nose, but he had to admit that this negative encouragement was actually doing its job. He kicked harder and faster than he ever had before, feeling his abs burning from the sustained effort.

“This is sad. I bet I could at least make it halfway, even if you had been pulling on this cord yourself.” Derek swam closer to the wall again. “In fact, I think I’ll see how far you can’t go.” He checked the stopwatch before tugging lightly on the cord, enjoying how Stiles immediately started kicking even harder.

“Hale, I’m going to kill you!”

“Come on, Stilinski. 15 seconds, and then you can kill me, but only if you outswim me.”

Finally, Derek yelled for Stiles to stop and reeled him back to the wall. Stiles wanted nothing more than to just float on his back for a moment, his anger and frustration completely worked through.

“You are a horrible person, Derek.”

Derek just smirked as he undid Stiles’s hip belt for him and tied it around himself. He planted his feet against the wall, waiting for Stiles to set him off.

“Ugh, just go, you monster.” He heard Derek laugh as he dove backward into the water to start the two minutes. “Fucking terrorist,” Stiles yelled as Derek broke the surface, sustaining a slightly stronger kick…but only slightly.

Stiles was still too exhausted after Derek’s two minutes to do anything other than glare. Even that was a little too much for him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hey on [tumblr](http://cyclechicster.tumblr.com).


End file.
